


The Intern

by billowingcloak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7863925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billowingcloak/pseuds/billowingcloak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Umbridge hires an intern to be her eyes and ears in all matters concerning the security of Hogwarts. Mathilda just wants her life back. Booted from the Auror's office, she's determined to make the best of her situation. Even if that means supporting corporal punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mundane

A Mundane Intro.

In 1993, she thought her career over. It wasn't her fault, and most people knew this, it was just that she was new blood and that someone had to accept the consequences of being such. She understood this, yes? "Accountability Ms. Morent, the accountability to ensure the populace." Stripped of her position, she had been cast to the wolves of the Wizengamot as "punishment," then given the honorable duty of Court Scribe for her efforts in securing the perimeters after Sirius Black's escape. The escape that her team had allowed. If not for her character references, particularly from the Chief Warlock, and her outstanding merits, she very well may have been sitting in Black's empty cell.

At first it wasn't terrible. Set hours of eight to six, same vacation benefits, less of a chance of death or severe maiming. She would sit in the court and record all happenings, send messages and other such general duties, even act as security had the accused misbehaved. She loved those days. It was easy to ignore the sneers of her contemporaries, knowing she had sacrificed her job for her team. It wasn't until she got her first pay stub that she questioned her contentment. She had worked for years, with top marks in school and magical merits that literally covered her former, beautiful office walls. Only to be paid 100 Galleons a week, starting.

She sometimes thought she would have preferred Azkaban. Mathilda hated the Archives most of all. Scribes were expected to comb through the most mundane cases, sometimes by hand, to gather the most minute information. Hours of searching to appease the warlocks. She had attempted to organize the chaos by year, relevance, and persons associated, only to be berated by the Head of Scribes to leave it be, that the Wizengamot is older than the Ministry itself. Their filing system is as fine as it's ever been.

She wanted to set it on fire. She didn't want to care about such an inane job or to work for such a useless git, but Merlin help her, was she an overachiever. There were days when she didn't have to go to court, and she was forced to read prior, settled cases to proof other scribes' (including her manager's) work. Incompetent individuals with no thoughts beyond making connections and lunch, "Have you eaten? I'm thinking we have the elves bring up some Chinese or Hungarian." After these sessions and with tired eyes, it would seem that she only saw black and white. The world was devoid of color and mirth and littered with flashing spots that she should really talk to someone at St. Mungo's about.

For one year she had endured her duties without psychological or medical help. Mr. Crane had been fired for harboring Dark Artifacts. She was finally given a promotion and his (very small, cramped) office for her "good sport." Whiskey helped to drown her sorrows, especially in the wake of her new found responsibility of sorting through new recruits with stupid questions. Her pensieve was another reprieve, often used after the whiskey. It helped to remind her that, just maybe, this situation wasn't entirely her fault. She saw what she saw and reported it accordingly to her superiors without hysterics or dramatics. There was a dog, swimming in the sea, and they could believe it if they just chose to see it. She complied with the Minister's wishes and kept her nose clean, mouth shut, and head down. Nothing to be ashamed of here, just working it all out.

Then out of the blue, Black had managed to be caught on Hogwarts' grounds, only to escape again hours later. For a while she was in a whirlwind of court proceedings and mountains of paperwork, in the center of it all but at least she wasn't the focus of attention. She worked most nights and began barking orders at the other scribes to keep everything in hand. Nothing was to go to the Sorting Room or Archives until he was caught or the Hogwarts inquiry was over. New "evidence" and testimonies came everyday from a multitude of sources and if one scrap of parchment went missing, well, she would make sure that whoever was so absent minded would remain so. There weren't many questions after that.

Most of the witnesses were her old professors, while the hundred others were from Hogsmeade and the outlying villages. None of their accounts matched up. Some of the Wizengamot had dropped by her office to peruse the paperwork for themselves, eager to be rid of the investigation.

After one particularly lengthy day (the court called into question the magical creature procedures and presence of a hipogriff at the school for the umpteenth time) Mathilda had been sitting at her desk, sipping "tea" and sending mailers out, when she was interrupted by her new assistant Merida.

"It's the Chief to see you." Not unusual, he often asked favors to send letters and reminders to other members of the court. Dumbledore was smiling, a rather stark contrast to her former Potions Master hovering just outside of her door, clearly fuming with arms crossed and brows furrowed. Mathilda had almost sympathized with him. He was forced to confront the Wizengamot for his failures to keep Black in the castle. Snape had been in Court for the past two weeks, questioned by almost every member for his inadequacies. She had watched his usual scowl turn into something darker, frightening even.

At least he hadn't been there for as long as her trial, now that was true madness. Two months of inquiries and searches into her home, digging into her families' lives. She would almost feel sorry for him, had he not given the Prefect position to Petra Colbat during fifth year. Or an 'acceptable' on her Draught of the Living Death in sixth year. Or if he wasn't such a git in the first place.

"Ms. Morent, it is good to see you outside the Scribe's box, might I trouble you perhaps, for a copy of today's transcripts? More specifically, Severus Snape's inquiry?" He looked over his shoulder and nodded. "I could refer back to his testimony should the need arise and would like to dismiss his presence altogether. I believe that the good professor's time should no longer be wasted with such repetitive questioning, wouldn't you say Severus?"

"Excuse me," he said curtly, with as much ice as the Arctic. He sharply turned down the hallway, Merida following and closing the door behind his billowing cloak.

"It's been a trying day." Dumbledore said, still smiling and pleasant as always before taking a seat at his leisure. His spectacles glimmered under her candlelight.

"I see that," she shuffled through the long, heavy scroll and transcribioed his inquiry onto another, "that's all of it, need anyone else's? I've got libraries of this stuff."

"No, that will do. Thank you." He tucked it into his robes, smoothed them over and paused, seeming to consider his question before gazing into her eyes with such compassion she wanted to break down and sob into her paperwork. "I hope the change hasn't been too trying?" She chuckled and looked down, studying her spotted owl quill.

"I understand that the work can be quite menial, beneath you even in some manner, but I feel that it's not without it's rewards." Besides the copious amounts of pumpkin pasties in my desk? There were no other rewards likely. She sat up straight and eyed the Kitty Clock behind his head, too afraid to spill her secret contempt to the man that saved her ass. Stressful emotions were spilling to the surface and she forced her voice to recite her mantra.

"Everything is as it should be, and I'm very grateful that the Ministry and yourself have appointed me this wonderful opportunity to continue my career in Magical Law Enforcement," She choked, "No matter the position." She dared to look him in the eye, and the kindness she saw there stung. He was the first person to ask how she was and truly meant to listen. She told him the truth.

"It's awful Chief, just bloody awful." He sighed. " Wait, I don't mean to say that I'm ungrateful or anything, I mean to say that, I'm... not unhappy. I promise, I would much rather be here than Azkaban or banned from this altogether...sometimes." She got frazzled, continuing her rambling and trying to save face. "I mean, I'm making decent galleons, I don't have to wake up wondering if this was the day that some Dark wizard kills me, and I-" He raised his hand to stop her before she could cry harder.

"It's quite alright Mathilda, it is a rather dull job. I am sorry I couldn't fit you into something more suited to your expertise." He grabbed her hand lightly, and made sure she looked at him. "However, I've talked to Cornelius just today, we've both agreed that you are wasted on such trivial work."

_No... ___

__"He'll be taking your position into consideration." He produced a letter addressed to the Minister, still open for her to read. She forced herself to breath, able only to say,_ _

__"Th-thank you." _My Merlin. _____

____"I spoke of your exceptional bravery, the history you've overcome, the quality of your work, that the Wizengamot couldn't possibly continue to hold the blame for Black's escape on you, etcetera, etcetera."_ _ _ _

____The letterhead was perfect, in emerald ink and so official. It smelled like lemons and new parchment._ _ _ _

____"Especially after these new circumstances, if your former potions master could be excused, so can someone who gave up so much of her life to take the fall for another's mistake." Her hands shook, she could practically see her office again. Bright, full of organized, useful books. The chance to go on patrols and feel free again._ _ _ _

____She couldn't breathe. It was a simple cut and dry letter but a recommendation from Dumbledore, to the very top of the chain no less, was application gold. She held it firmly to her chest._ _ _ _

____"I do hope to see you again soon, preferably in your former office, this one..."He scanned her office, "seems to make you look peaky." She choked, two tears leaking from her sad, brown eyes._ _ _ _

____"I also can not entirely promise you full reinstatement, at least not right away, but I've always found it good to hope for the best." She hadn't noticed he was already at the door, her eyes paralyzed on the piece of parchment. "Do remember, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light" She couldn't tell how he did it, but there seemed to be more light radiating from her lanterns at his exit._ _ _ _

_____"What the actual fuck?"_ ____ _ _

______She shot up from her chair, wiped her tears with a plaid handkerchief, and tore through the scrolls stacked against her back wall, revealing the portrait of a large, white kitten with a pink bow. She only knew that the kitten, along with the muggle looking Kitty Clock, had been there since before Mr. Crane, and any such attempt to pry it off the wall would result in feverish scratches. She had found a purpose for it after finding it's password scrawled under her desk._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Mew?" It licked it's paws._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Blue Danube," it gave another mew and opened. The small crawl space where she kept her Firewhiskey also held her investigation from Azkaban and an application for reassignment. She had drunkenly filled it out after Mr. Crane had been fired, hoping that one day, _'today'_ she thought giddily, she'd never step foot into the other half of Level 2.___ _ _ _

________She sent it off, pouring her whiskey in her tea cup as she watched it fly away. Unaware that the kitten had disappeared from it's frame._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

It was two months before she heard word. In that time she had finally organized the Archives, cleaned out the fools whose father's bought them a scribe position, implemented a fresh training program for the new recruits, and gave herself one day off a month. She had received a mailer from the office of Cornelius Fudge himself with an appointment to meet with his Senior Undersecretary that day in regards for reassignment opportunities. Within a second, a knock followed by Merida's soft, meek voice announced the arrival of Dolores Umbridge.

"Of course, let her in!" She smoothed her hair and cast a quick cleaning charm. She had been covered in dust in her attempts to deworm the Archive's public records. They were such nasty creatures. Pink, grubby,and only a few inches in length, they looked a lot like the woman standing at her door. Her smile even matched their razor teeth, cutting to Mathilda's bones.

They never spoke much in the past. In fact, most of their correspondence had been through mailers and the minister's personal scribe. After any trial they had worked together, Mathilda would just hand her a copy of the transcript and be on her way. There should be no reason that small, secretive, conniving grin she reserved for her 'victims' in court, was possibly meant for her. She hoped.

Except her cold, blue eyes were fixated on her. As Umbridge took her seat, Mathilda felt like cornered prey, choosing to stand and make a pot of tea. With plenty of sugar, please.

"I hadn't expected you to come so early, pardon my mess, I've been...organizing." She poured her a cup in white bone china, old heirlooms from her mother. The kitten portrait mewled through the papers blocking it.

Dolores giggled, "Oh how thoughtful, I'm sure archives appreciates your efforts. That office is such a catastrophe." She took a tentative sip, and kept her eyes on Mathilda.

"Mr. Balloy is set in his ways, but he has admitted that there was no harm in adding a sorting charm I personally modified, especially for a quicker way to summon joint records."

"Oh yes, Mr. Balloy," She set her cup down. "When I first began my career, I remember approaching him with a five point plan to do the very same." She looked around her office, obviously judging it's state. "Of course, I worked my way up the chain quite rapidly and forgot about the pet project all together." Another, girlish giggle as she smoothed her pink robes over her lap. Folding her hands, ever the proper lady, she thought carefully, "It is refreshing to see a, young, career-minded woman organizing the chaos that is our politics."

Mathilda could feel the attack.

"And It is a shame that you have such a mark on your otherwise spotless record."

Yep. It hadn't hurt her as much as she thought it would. She feigned disappointment, showing humility. She needed to get out of here and if it meant damning her pride, than she would beg on her knees. Eyes lowered, she dropped her voice,

"Yes, I am ashamed that I had let such a dangerous criminal escape. It's...There are constant reminders all around me. Every time there;s a sighting, well, you remember the trial. "

Umbridge took her cup and raised it to her lips, blue eyes focused on her.

The bait.

"Of course, though it wasn't entirely your fault dear."

She knew this dance. "Oh, but a chain is only as strong as it's weakest link." Mathilda looked up to meet her eyes, Umbridge seemed to approve, soften even. She definitely wasn't an occlumens. "I know it may not have been directly my fault, but I couldn't stop him either."

"Well, accountability. You are a rarity Ms. Morent." She got out of her chair, slowly, and began to inspect her office. Taking a special interest in the Kitty Clock. Of course, her thing with kittens.

"It says on your application, your intentions are to join your former colleagues as an auror again." She produced her wand from her cloak, and tapped the clock. It began to tick, it's eyes roving around the room. "Unfortunately, the Ministry can not afford to allow you to join such an office, especially so soon after your termination. It could prove to be a liability" She turned to Mathilda. "But fear not, we have yet another position in line for you."

The color drained from Mathilda's face. As much as Umbridge adored her kittens, she had the heart of a lioness. If Mathilda felt like prey earlier, she felt like she was the rotting corpse of an antelope, with Umbridge taking small bites to ensure she was still good meat.

"In fact, I had been given the task to employ you in our offices, dear." She moved to the back wall, behind Mathilda's seat. "Across the hall?"

She would be stupid to not have seen those gilded doors across the way. Every morning, straight out of the lift, she watched the important and rich wizards walk in and out of those doors. Every once in a while she would see a memeber of her old team, dropping off reports to the Minister's scribe. They all ignored her, she wouldn't blame them for that.

"Is that so?" Umbridge began to walk behind her desk, a tactic that wouldn't work normally work on her, if she didn't have this nagging feeling of danger. She had her former mentor's words replaying in her head. Constant Vigilance. And she knew she had been lax since she left the auror's office. Umbridge had known about everything for sometime.

"Yes, I wonder," She waved her wand, willing the stacked paper's that covered the kitten's portrait to the side. Not dropping a single piece of parchment. The kitten purred when it locked eyes with Umbridge, and rolled on it's stomach. "Have you made much use of ?"

There it was, the breaking point where she felt ice form in her veins. How had she not thought of it. Fucking kittens.

Maybe she didn't know. "Well, i- "

"You wouldn't happen to have something a bit stronger?" Straight to the point, she began to caress the portrait's frame. "I would never tattle on such a role model for our younger employees. What's the harm in such trifles?"

Files on files of classified information that should not be there, sitting next to an empty bottle of whiskey.

"I'll cut to the chase, dear," She moved from the portrait to Mathilda's side, her hand on her back in a mock effort of comforting her. "I need a level headed problem solver with, I should say, a bit of muscle." Mathilda forced her head up, staring blankly into the predator's eyes. "You have plenty of experience, auror and secretarial duties, you continuously exceed the expectations of your superiors. I'm offering you the chance to prove your loyalty and perhaps, one day, become the head of the office you" she moved away, back to the Kitty Clock, watching it's eyes move back and forth, "had fought so hard to become a part of. So, very hard. It was a struggle, moving from your heritage, wasn't it?"

And there's the knife.

"You're shocked." In truth, Mathilda couldn't keep her head from spinning, she played into a most obvious trap. Moody would be highly disappointed.

"I don't know what to say." Umbridge smiled wide at that, all teeth.

"I do, the job is simple. You would be my Secretary to the Undersecretary to the Minister. My very own protege. Carrying out orders, mailings, notes. A sort of internship if you will."

Mathilda's mouth was open.

"I-I feel-"

"Do not let your feelings hinder your progress. My, when I was your age, I would have killed for the opportunity." How could a giggle sound so cruel? "I would, hate to see such promise wasted in a cell, be it stone or office."

"Dolores-"

"Oh it would do you well for you to call me Ms. Umbridge, best to get into the professional habit, especially if you are to report directly to me." She took her cup from the desk, reaching over Mathilda's gaping mouth. "Oh please Ms. Morent, say you will, I'm sure the Minister would be most grateful and benevolent to know that he has such a strong,independent worker so close to his office. Your recommendation letter spoke highly of your ambition. You have the opportunity to make a new name for your family." Finished with her tea, she moved back to the clock, tapping her wand and stilling it's movements. "The possibilities are endless, your future is brighter than ever." She moved towards the door, Mathilda finally looked up.

"Your first day is tomorrow, make sure you clear this office of your personal belongings and report to your desk promptly at six."

"A.m?" Mathilda's voice was a whisper, hoarse. She wasn't even sure she spoke.

"Well yes, you should be the first in the office." She gave one last, wrinkled smile. "Have a wonderful evening, Ms. Morent, I can safely say that I will enjoy working with you."

Mathilda saw spots.

 

One year later

She was back in the south side of Level Two with her new pink quill, taking notes. She was tired and pale, having spent all night running a special errand. She hadn't quite fully recovered, but it wasn't anything her supply of chocolate treacles couldn't cure.

As Secretary to the Undersecretary to the Minister, her duties included inspections, retrievals, event planning, and now the general overhaul of Ministry staff. Since the Triwizard incident, more than 20 employees had been terminated.

Three aurors breached protocol on a standard guard duty. During a rowdy Quidditch match, some had proven to be of flawed character and unfit for service. They had seen men drag an unconscious body to a camp. When they entered the suspect's tent, they had been attacked by three of the Cobalts. The body disappeared in the struggle. There had been no evidence so support their claims therefore her self writing quill had written 'unstable' after each of their statements, whizzing straight to the inbox. They weren't her words per se, but they would do. Anything to make the boss happy. "Thank you, gentlemen." She had another appointment down the corridor.

There had been a fire a week ago, proven accidental but in need of a Ministry Inquiry. Currently it was contained to the Archives and the current Head Scribe had assured her the mistake did not come from his department. Pleaded even, to wait for the Magical Accidents inquiry to finish. That didn't fit her deadline.

"Do you often let other departments and levels into the Archives?" She was bored, looking around her former office, staring at Trixie the Kitty gazing at her with blue, innocent eyes. She briefly wondered why that couldn't have burned with the records.

"Well, n-no. In fact, I'm not quite sure anyone would even want to, besides a Scribe or a Council member?" Her pen scratched loudly. "It's a mess, as I'm sure you remember, Mr. Balloy, rest his soul, must have always been at his wits end." She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes, opting to move the quill and parchment in front of her face. Incompetent, Naive, Simple. She briefly wondered what charm was used to write such remarks, or if the pen stole a personality from it's enchanter. Whichever, it wasn't her job to question the authority of Umbridge, just the capabilities of others. During his monologue of the events that preceded the accident, the pen and parchment had zoomed away, done with their job.

"I hadn't finished though!"

"I'm afraid that's all the time I have today, you'll hear from our office." She needed a drink. Or three, and if the lightness of her purse was any indication, more treats. Perhaps a nap as well, if the world would give her any sort of favor. Since her enslavement by the evil witch, she hid her vices at home. More than once has she found Umbridge sitting at her desk, perusing through random bits of paperwork, striking up conversations about the weather or the Minister's recent decrees. She would take some and leave others, seemingly random at first, until her assignments started to coincide. Documents spanning to Black's escape at Hogwarts. Nothing much before then. Just little comments here and there, with many references to Dumbledore. He may have lost his seat on the Council, but Umbridge was still out for blood.

She walked through the cubicles, slowly even. Looking at all the haggard faces of the entry-level work force covered in ash. She wondered if the feeling in her chest was nostalgia. Did she have feelings anymore? There had been no rest in the past twenty eight hours so now would be understandable, but recalling the faces of those who were fired because of her, well, she couldn't remember feeling anything but duty. Should that scare her?

Plop. Or should the scented pink mail from hell be more concerning? It had landed at her feet, with a tiny square package wrapped in violet.

Ms. Morent.

_The Minister and I would like to thank you for your continued services in these dark times. I need not tell you the threat we face everyday that. These rumors circulating have been detrimental to the cause of our Minister's work but I'm thrilled to report that, for all of this nasty gossip, we have such an accomplished ally such as yourself to quell this gossip._

__

'Merlin, more work?'

_We would like to offer you a holiday of sorts, for recognition of your important efforts to the cause. Report to the desk August 12, usual time._

_Best wishes, ___

_Dolores Umbridge, ___

_Undersecratary to the Minister of Magic ___

Her eyes scanned the signature, looking for inconsistencies. Revelio had no effect. It was her break, she had everything she needed in her purse and she would be damned if she stayed another hour here.

She raced towards the lift, finding it empty for once and praying the rest of her quick escape was as easy. She pressed Atrium, and greedily tore into the box, praying for cake. Under pink tissue paper, was a gold and white pin. A cat with black stone tiger stripes playing with a white ball of yarn. I ran in circles around the clasp with 'Inq. Morent' engraved in the center, silver plated. It fit into the palm of her hand. Her fingertips touched the cat, eliciting an obnoxious, shrieking Meow.

"Gaudy."

"Excuse me?" She turned towards the voice, her eyes first catching onto the brilliant emerald clasp of a forest green cloak, rising upwards to a pale face and aquiline noise. Platinum locks framed the sharp gaze of Mr. Malfoy.

"Oh, this pin I received today, I mean." She continued to study it, looking for an initial or some clue as to who would dare craft such a thing. Or Malfoy's wand, for that matter.

"Ah," he leaned his head over, his platinum locks falling over his shoulders. "Ms. Morent, Inquisitor now?" He searched her eyes briefly and turned towards the doors. "I hadn't realized you still worked here."

"Well, I had to kill the time." They both studied the details of the lift now, Mathilda trying to count the panels.

The silence was intermittently interrupted by the announcement of floors. Two wizards had come and gone off the next stop, leaving Malfoy and Mathilda to themselves again. He broke the silence first.

"Does Neil write to you?" He carefully adjusted his cuff links.

She exhaled, held her chin high and pitched her voice. "No, he doesn't." She smiled to hide her displeasure. Neil couldn't even blink, she had seen him curled tight into a ball, barely breathing.

"The Atrium" rang out. Mathilda hastily bid a good day, before Malfoy's cane blocked her path. She turned to him, his cane retreating behind his back as he stepped out first.

"Would you walk with me for a moment?" He still avoided her eyes, in stead looking to the center fountain. Her head nodded but her feet felt heavy as she followed him through the corridor. Lucius held his back straight, setting a leisurely pace.

"I had noticed a desk on Level 2 with a familiar chess board. The gold plated and marble one. Neil's wedding present . I remember teaching you to play before your first year of Hogwarts." Many wizards who walked by tipped their hats or nodded their heads in passing.

"It's more of a glorified paperweight now, actually."

"A pity." They stopped before a newsstand, surveying today's papers. The headlines mostly involved the Wizengamot's decision to remove Dumbledore from most of his seats and accolades.

"More of a pity that he's to take charge of my progeny for a fifth year. Our way of life is diminishing Mathilda, I had hoped to see justice for my son's accident the previous year." Lucius picked up the Prophet. "I presume you work under Dolores?" He turned the page with his ringed hand to the Triwizard recap, Harry Potter was clutching the body of Cedric Diggory.

"I do," She quipped, throwing two galleon at the attendant for a coffee, upset her unplanned holiday was delayed by her old friend.

"And, who spoke for you after they found you guilty?" He regarded her stiff countenance with raised eyebrows.

"I'm afraid that information is classified. Board members only."

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, before asking her, "As a favor from Neil?"

She led them back to the fountain, closer to the fireplaces. Once out of earshot of passerbys, she whispered "Just cause I'm not an auror doesn't mean I won't put you in prison, Lucius."

"I'd like to see you try." He stepped in closer, finally giving eye contact with his disarming smirk. It reminded her of when the three of them spent summer's in Bath, a ghost of youth. There was a time it would have given her tremors.

"I don't remember you quite this rude. It's worse than we've feared. We're hosting a dinner in two nights, Narcissa expressed an interest in your social life just recently actually, and I couldn't think of a better opportunity to-"

"No."

He paused, grasping the air to find the perfect words. "A...networking platform, then."

"No."

"This was never quite as hard before." He slipped an invitation from his robes.

"No, Lucius."

"The world is changing Mathilda. This 'unity between worlds' they strive for is doing more harm to us than good." They passed the Magical Brethren fountain, golden sparks flowed from the noble wizard's wand. "I have a proposition for you." He handed her the envelope that she reluctantly took.

"You have a problem with the word 'no.'"

"And you have value, inquisitor.'" He pointed to her badge. "More now than ever."

She apparated clear of the Atrium before she could be convinced.


	3. Chapter 3

She threw her purse at the closet and her body on the bed.

Sleep eluded her for hours. Her thoughts seemed to break through the wall she had built since her reassignment and bombarded her with images of Neil, lying to waste in Azkaban. They filled her face with hot tears that ran down her cheeks in rivulets. This lasted for the rest of the day. When the sun had set, she moved her crying into the sitting room to sullenly stare at her family portrait. She sat in a black,winged arm chair and blankly gazed at it's gilded frame with a glass of scotch and a muggle pipe.

Her family had always been stoic and distant, their portrait looked no different. She was 6 at the time and told not to smile. Being the youngest and a girl, she sat on a gold ottoman below her ancient father. He was in the same armchair she currently occupied, while his hand clutched her shoulder, keeping her still while she fidgeted with her skirts. The other hand held Claudia Morent's, her wedding ring of black and gold was dazzling but her face was pinched with cruel grey eyes. Neil, perhaps 18 or 19 at the time, had the audacity to smirk when they sat for the photographer. Her father had beat him bloody the next day. The frame had been engraved with the words

Sanguinem in auro, potentia animi. It meant very little to her now.

She looked into her father's squinty eyes. He had been 65 when he remarried for the third time. For years Mathilda denied him as her biological father, for her mother had hundreds of lovers through their married years there was a great chance she wasn't even related to the man. "What a folly," he'd say. "Such a foolish statement couldn't come from MY child, but those hard brown eyes and proud stance? Definitely of my stock, your idiocy must be from your mother's side. Pass the port." He'd grumble and hobble to his chair.

She decorated her flat much the same as her family's estate. Black and gold trimmed everything with velvets and silks lining the walls. As for the sitting room, she only had her book shelf and the chair. They were comforting to her, and also they were the few things that didn't sell in the auction. Above her, she had transfigured the roof to include a circular skylight with a small golden chandelier hanging from its center. It was mostly for her owl's benefit, but sometimes she'd pass out drunk beneath it to shout her frustrations to the heavens. She lived a rather minimalist life since the Escape.

She watched a white dove circle the opening, dropping a letter through the mail slot she personally installed. She'd rather there weren't any droppings from other magical creatures other than her own owl. It was easier to clean, the carpet was a fine oriental piece from her great grandmother, after all. The letter floated downwards, landing on her feet. It was clearly a Malfoy invitation, she could see the dazzling white parchment and golden script.

It had an olive branch attached that was more than likely from the Malfoy's winery. She supposed it was funny, Malfoy had bought their farms for most of their own productions.

She was cordially invited to the Malfoy's dinner party. As a post script from Narcissa, she was told (not asked, but told) to wear something in accordance with the guest of honor, Cornelius Fudge. That she should escape from her mouse hole, not living up to her potential, in need of friends, to join her for tea etcetera. As soon as she raised her wand to incinerate this 'kind gesture,' another letter had shot through the slot with urgency. Addressed to her on pink Ministry stationary, the personal correspondence of Madam Undersecretary was feeling peakish and decided to turn her invitation to Mathilda.

"Tea it is then."

The Morents and Malfoys have been neighbors since 1100 A.d. They had much respect for eachother, but in time grew into bitter rivals over petty squabbles. It wasn't until the leading men in both families' had vied for Elizabeth the First's hand in marriage that it came to blows. It was told that Armand Morent (nmed after a Malfoy, of all things) had heard the Queen speak of her envy for Lucius the First's raven locks, and cursed him with fine, white hair. Lucius, unable to show his face, retaliated with burning the Morent's winery. Eventually they came to duel in front of her Majesty. She interfered while Lucius (or Armand, depending on who tells the tale) had cast a jinx to make the recipent unable to feel. She hadn't noticed, but when both Malfoy and Morent saw their work, they excused themselves and shared a drink. It's said that they put their differences aside and that's when they opened their first winery. They had peace for a century before that too was incinerated, this time by a drunk Morent who had lost a girl to a Malfoy. It's been back and forth ever since. For one century, they have pax, in another they cause discord in all of the wizarding world. All Mathilda knew was that both families were petty. Now that she was the only Morent (alive and free), she felt that keeping an eye on the Malfoy's would only benefit her.

She arrived for tea with plain, grey robes. She had given away most of her dresses and resigned to being alone for the rest of her days, wallowing in self pity. Narcissa greeted her in the foyer, elegant as ever.

"Mathilda."

"Narcissa."

They eyed each other, Mathilda noted the older woman barely had a wrinkle.

She already needed a drink.

She was lead to a small solarium with a view of the garden, the light here was bright, contrasting with the rest of Malfoy Manor. They're chairs had been pulled by magic, a floating tray of sandwiches parked itself onto their table. The tea poured itself into fine china.

"Well now, it's been so long hasn't it? The last time I saw you was Draco's birth announcement." Her voice was pitched high, in a surprisingly pleasant demeanor.

"Well circumstances as they were, I thought distance best."

"Yes, not this distant." Narcissa grimaced at her robes. Mathilda breathed slowly, steeling herself. "How is this new Inquisitor position? I hear you've been quite busy." Her eyes narrowed.

"It's alright, there wasn't much I could do otherwise."

"Yes, you'd think that if you were to free anyone it would have been Neil." If she were afraid of Narcissa as she was of Umbridge, she'd back down. But as tired and hungover as she was, she wasn't going to take her patronizing. "But you have your galleons and friends, what more can one ask for?"

"Had. The Ministry considered Morent's business 'corrupt' if you don't remember." Mathilda snapped.

"I remember," Narcissa regarded her coldly. "You still have partnership with the Malfoy's of course. You always have, yet you're the one who has secluded herself. You haven't collected a single knut. The question is," she leaned toward Mathilda, grabbing her hand. "Do you remember nothing of loyalty?" She dropped her voice to a whisper, dismissing the house elves and securing the doors with her wand. "Where were you two nights ago?"

Mathilda was hardly surprised that everyone seemed to know what was going on in her life, so with a coy smile, she politely inquired,

"Why do you ask?"

Narcissa slammed a newspaper onto the table. 'Dementors in Little Whinging.'

"You were at the prison, weren't you?"

At Azkaban, Mathilda had a suspicion that the inmates were communicating with the outside world. While some had fallen to the dementors entirely, others held on to their sanity by threads. They didn't ever seem to whither away completely. She thought maybe a guard at first, but when nothing was proven her mentor had told her to stay vigilant. She'd find it.

"What does it matter if-"

"I ask only one question. Were you there?" She stepped closer to Mathilda, wand in hand.

"I only delivered a message from Umbridge, anything else is purely coincidental. I swear. That was not me." It shocked her how easy it was to give in.

Narcissa retreated, "Interesting." She looked at Mathilda, searching for more answers, before she transfigured the paper into a very familiar letter, clutching it in her manicured hands.

"Are you aware that you would be in prison now, if not for us?" Mathilda could take no more, she laughed.

"So what? You're going to blackmail me too?" She knew meeting Lucius in the lift wasn't a coincidence. "What could you possibly want with me that you don't already have. Fudge is coming to your dinner for boody sake!" She made for the doors. "Turn me in for all you like, it would do me a world of good." Narcissa, with her sharp talons, pulled Mathilda into her chair and held her face. She felt blood on her cheek.

"What is wrong with you!?" Narcissa slapped her face, the sting reverberating in the room. "15 years ago you would have fought me, you would have known you were being watched, you would have.." Her voice trembled before she smoothed her hair and composed herself. "Been one of us. And here you are, the evidence mounting against you as we speak. Did you know, had her planned failed, she would have blamed you? Based on your heritage alone?"

Mathilda was only subconsciously aware of her true position in Umbridge's game. She hadn't though of anything at all.

"I was just trying to lay low."

SLAP.

The doors opened, Lucius stepped into the room with the Warden suspended behind him. Paralyzed.

"Ah, my girls, how's rehabilitation?"

The warden's distressed whine was muffled, with cuts to his forehead and arms.

"Terrible, darling I believe it's your turn." He saw the marks on Mathilda's face, but he never changed his expression. Lucius knelt in front of Mathilda, moving his robes aside and laying his cane down. "Seems she was unworthy of her House after all."

"It's a rare sight to have a Malfoy kneel before a Morent." Those weren't the first time she head those words. "Do you remember when I told you times were changing?"

She nodded, unsure of what to do. It was the same interrogation practice she was taught to use. Good Auror, Bad Auror.

"Why did you take the letter?" She hung her head in her hands, unwilling to look at him.

"Simple really, the Warden, Mr. Polks, has been in our employ for years. He used to be our gardener, didn't you?" A low pitiful moan slid from Polk's mouth.

"When I saw you the other day. I hadn't noticed. You were skulking, your head bent over and you looked so...pitiful." He paused. "Vulnerable, is the best word. And contrary to what you believe, we can help you if you help us. Willingly I hope, this could potentially get messy if you refuse."

"Looks me in the eyes, Mathilda." He took her chin by force, leveling their gaze. "Do you want to see Neil again, this time as a free man?" Everything crashed as the floods broke the dam. She sobbed hard knowing full well how weak she had been. Too full of self-pity to truly think with a clear head. This was not her.

"I have someone I'd like you to meet. After dinner."

 

 

Dinners in a pure-blood family were traditional affairs to showcase class and achievement. Proper manners were displayed and rated upon their pageantry to ascertain the stability of their families' home and to honor their namesakes. So as the rules apply, Mathilda was forced into a beaded, elegeant wizard robe with a magicked face to cover those terrible bags under her eyes. Narcissa watched her like a hawk from across the table.

"As for this bill, Lucius -excellent pineapple cake by the by- I say, perhaps we could have another vote for it, after all, you've shown such exemplerary dedication." The sherry glass had been refilled numerous times at this point. "The Wizengamot, with it's change in leadership, has grown more tradito-HUP." He covered his mouth, spilling ruby liquid over Mathilda's dessert. "Oh, apologies Morent."

Narcissa waved her wand, smiling with bright and saccharine eyes. "It's fine, Grouty will sort the mess out." Her voice was honeyed. "Now that the feast has ended, Lucius has a wonderful, oh what was it dear husband?"

"A rather rare port, vintage, and by the Morent estate no less." Mathilda wiped the sherry off of her face, and offered a small smile. Nodding to Fudge, she cursed under her breath.

"Really?! Oh, Lucius you know one of my greater weaknesses was the famous Morent's cellar. Your family had exquisite taste-not in loyalties mind you, but you seem to have fallen far from that branch dear." She flinched. "How is the secretary-ing going? Following in your mother's footsteps I see." He gave a squeaky laugh and aired himself with a monogramed handkerchief, his nose and cheeks continued to grow rosier .

"It's a wonderful opportunity." She reached for her wand under the table, only to remember it was in Narcissa's custody.

"You know, as out of favor as Dumbledore is, he had a- unique vision-"

"Unique vision you say." Lucius interrupted. "Dangerous ideology most others would say. I know we agreed no business off hours, but I have one such matter I'd like to discuss with you." He gave a once over to Mathilda, slowly. "Over the port of course."

"Now Lucius, you know you can not possibly-"

"Oh but I insist. It's but a mere concern and easily remedied mind you."

"Very well, and the women?"

"They will entertain themselves in the Salon." His laugh was exuberent as they excused themselves from the table. Leading Fudge towards the black, heavy doors. Narcissa's smile fell, her eyes gone cold and her touch reflected this as a bony hand gripped at Mathilda's robes.

"You will not say a word unless spoken to." She led her up the white marble staircase, passing a harried house elf who trembled as they passed.

"You might ease off me then, if what's going to happen is as ugly as you say it will be, some compassion might actually be beneficial to my sanity." Mathilda pulled back, failing when Narcissa turned a corner and banged her elbow on it. "Ow! Careful!" They kept moving through the halls, passage after passage blurred by gilded portraits and beautiful, glittering objects on display. They came to a sudden stop, Mathilda hadn't remembered this wing of the manor. She had explored every inch of this house as a child. This was certainly new to her.

The door in her face was a solid black. She stared into the abyss of it's dark wood with chills running down her spine. Her throat cleared.

Narcissa patted her shoulder, a rather intimate gesture seen through the awkward stillness in her form. She twisted the golden knob slowly, opening the door to a cold, black marbled room. Dusty books lined the walls from floor to ceiling that looked to be taller than the house itself. In the center, a green fire roared, blazing out of it's pit. Narcissa spoke softly.

"My lord."

A low hiss came from beyond the fire, and Mathilda schooled her face. Her body tightened and she prepared.

"Narcissa." It lingered in the air. "Leave us." She bowed and exited, ignoring Mathilda entirely.

"Approach."

Her heavy steps practically signed her contract. She walked around the fire, focusing her breathing and thoughts before she saw a shadow at the corner of her eye. A snake tail had disappeared behind a shelf, the hissing surrounded her.

She came upon the back of forest green velvet chair, only seeing the barest tip of a head occupying it. Mind won over common sense as she forced her lead feet to confront the -man- her family was bound to. But when she stepped in front of the chair, she saw the horror of Mr. Polk's paralyzed face. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, surrounding puffy skin whiter than a ghost. The hands were gnarled and clutching his chest. A fly flew out of his open, toothless mouth.

"The last Morent."

The fire lowered, barely crackling now. Smoke rose and traveled slowly across her face, freezing her. It lingered for a moment, lightly tugging her hair before moving towards the seat opposite Polk. The shape of a large, sinewy man formed. The eyes as red as rubies. She bent her head.

"I hear you're without purpose." His wand in hand, he sat straight in his throne.

"My Lord." She whispered.

"The Malfoy's are right. The fire is gone." There were no lips, but his mouth stretched to one side, smirking. "How pitiful."

There was a pregnant pause, ruined by the sound of gas erupting from Polk's body. Voldemort sighed. His red eyes disappearing for a moment behind white lids. The body vanished with a flick of his wand.

"Now, where were we?" He balanced his wand in his right hand. "Your fear is palpable, have a seat." His forked tongue flicked the air. "What say you, Morent?"

"I a-await my punishment, my lord."

"Ha!" It was wheezy but it echoed. "Your punishment should be agonizing!" He shot from his seat.

Crucio! Her body fell to the floor, contorting on itself.

"I personally would have fed your soul to the dementors had I known you would be the traitor." The hissing in the walls grew, rattling her core as her teeth clenched. Her spine was on fire. "You sacrificed your family for a Ministry career?"

"I was mislea-AH!" Her scream tore through her throat. She could feel her nerves exploding, her spine seemed to curl in itself.

She han't noticed the three others in the room, lurking in a corner. They watched on bended knee.

"Still, I have a proposition for you. CRUCIO!"

The pain was too much, she could feel her nerves shock every part of her body. Sobbing brought no relief. Voldemort took his seat, regarding her with disdain.

"I have seen your mind."

She couldn't control her breathing, limbs or voice. She babbled, noticing that Nagini had curled herself under his seat. Those jeweled eyes focused their gaze on Mathilda's prone form.

"I have seen your soul, the selfish, narcissistic, pitiful thing it is. I've seen what you've done, the truth behind your actions, and I must say..." His voice grew deeper, "Despite what you may see as achievements, you've yet to uphold the Morent name." A high wheezing laugh escaped. "A disgrace. All of your family has served me faithfully. Your mother, father, brother..." a force lifted her head, forcing her to look upon the deformed face. "Yet you defied me. I had been asked, begged even, to give you a chance, for one purpose-"

A knock interrupted them from the black door.

"Enter Narcissa."

Mathilda's head was still pulled forward, as if she were on a chopping block. Her eyes never left Voldemort's.

"It's done my lord. Fudge has agreed."

"Excellent."

She could feel a slight hesitation from the older woman. "Will that be all my lord?"

"She has no sense of loyalty." Her body was raised, his long fingers curling around her chin. She was an inch from his face now, the stench of death emanating from him. "If I grant her this favor, your favor, how can I be assured?"

High heels stepped around her, and she came into Mathilda's sight.

"When I saw her this morning, I hadn't realized it was her. Terrible wrinkles, hard expression, twitchy eyes. Horrifying."

"Vanity."

"She had always been in the field, the top of her class, and she now works for a vile woman named Umbridge. Though not unsympathetic to our cause, she is the Minister's Undersecretary, with Mathilda as her secretary, she has the keys to all of the Ministry."

"A reason to use her, but not how."

"She'll have Neil back, perhaps even a better position should she cooperate."

"Ambition, perhaps the fortitude to be one of us is present. Do you agree Mathilda? Can you join us with full allegiance in your cold heart?"

"Y-yes, muh-my lord." Again, she fell to the floor violently.

"Approach your new sister, brothers. Initiation begins Her wand if you please, Narcissa. You may have well just said fear and save us all the trouble."

Above her, she saw dark shadows with silver masks circling her, their wands and hands stretched forward. She heard the fire roar, and green smoke swirled in her vision. The room became hazy, the stench of death poignant.

"Mathilda Lillith Morent of a household so pure, today is the day you join the ranks of the better men." Her body twisted and turned in circles, rising above their gathering.

"Today, you accept the punishment of your crimes against your family."

She screamed, the back of her dress had been torn and dozens of cuts appeared on her skin.

"And today, you will seek retribution." She felt them burn, her entire lower back was on fire as she spun slower. When she finally felt the ground, her eyes blankly gazed at the beautiful chandelier above them.

"Kneel before me."

It was a whisper, but she complied, slowly. Tired and aching, knobby knees slid below her, her forearms steadied her.

"Today, you are a death eater, now and always."


End file.
